Tenacity
by NellietheMarvelous
Summary: This story is a gift. Slight mentions of Watershed. "He'll keep asking. Because it's what he does. He pushes. He pokes. He scratches and claws and she lets him."
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Not mine. I just like playing in other people's sandboxes.  
**

**A/N: This idea came to me (was pushed upon) by my very lovely twitter friends. You guys know who you are. Peer pressure always makes me break, KAYLA! Thus, you get a new story and I get to write several different perspectives on the same moment which is going to be rather amusing at times, and obviously a little sad once in awhile. Added my own twist on the idea by setting the scenes with a song. It's called Give It All by He is We.  
**

_**I've had so many words,  
But I had no courage,  
Now we're saying goodbye,  
Don't want to miss you tonight...**_

It doesn't take a mastermind to know something is up. Her better half is gone and she doesn't know where he's run off to. She's good at this, she's a detective. It's her job to detect things but he's left no evidence, no piece of the story for her to grasp onto. Oh wow, she's even starting to sound like him. Her thoughts are starting to run wild with Castlesque phrasing and she's not sure she doesn't like it. It's been a year of being together. Of doing this every day - being his girlfriend, having dinners, sharing kisses. Her face flushes and heat rushes through her veins, settling low in her abdomen when she lets her mind wander to the other things they share. The way the are behind closed doors - sometimes even open doors - how they touch, how they kiss, the way he makes love. The stroke of his hands, the softness of his mouth.

She stirs her coffee, smiles a bit as she gives herself a moment to reflect. But something is up and she's not sure how she feels about it. They're still a little shaky at the moment. One wobbly foot in front of the other as they search for solid ground. She loves him but there's only so much she can put him through and she wonders if this is the part that breaks them. The fact that less than a week ago he was down on one knee and offering a ring - offering forever and she said no. Is this going to be the push that tosses him over the edge? Has he suddenly decided that he's done? That's the question running around in her head, wreaking havoc.

She explained herself, at least she thinks she managed to make him understand that the timing was off. It wasn't right. Not when she had convinced herself it was the end of their relationship, that he was going to hate her. A week and they're slowly but surely working through the mess of emotions, the tangled web of lies that's wrapped around them.

But something is going on with him today. He isn't texting her back and she's even called twice. Nothing. He's giving nothing away and it's starting to piss her off just a little because aren't they done with this? The hiding and the secrets? Isn't that what the swing set proposal was all about? She doesn't understand. She didn't take the job but she'd wanted to - it took her staring down at that ring for it to click in her brain that she wants him more. He's worth more and not even his words made a difference.

So this - him not being here - isn't okay because as far as she knows, they're no longer fighting. In fact the way he'd pinned her against her door last night made it pretty clear that there's no reason for him to be missing for a full day.

It's getting late and she isn't even focusing on the file occupying her desk anymore. She grabs her things - the blazer thrown over the back of her chair, the phone she's been staring at for the last hour - and heads out. She won't go home. She doesn't want to miss him tonight, she wants to know what's going on and without even considering giving him space, she presses the button on the elevator with only the loft in mind.

* * *

Standing outside his door is awkward, she doesn't know if she should knock or just use her key. Two weeks ago this wouldn't even be an internal debate. She would have already had her key in the lock and been in the process of pushing her way inside but now, she isn't sure. Things are still different. Still a little tense.

She mutters to herself about how ridiculous she's being and shoves her hand in her pocket to fish out the ring holding her keys. He would have asked for it back if he didn't want her using it. They're still together and she's over analyzing every little thing as if they aren't - she needs to stop it. There's nothing healthy about it.

With a growl of frustration, she slides the tiny symbol of their relationship into the lock, twists until it clicks and then she's stumbling through the door, tripping over something in the dark. She kicks it out of the way, hears as it hits the wall but even when her eyes adjust to the lack of light, she still doesn't know what it is. Not important. Not why she's here.

Why is it so dark? There's a flickering pale light coming from his office, but not one single overhead is on. She knows the loft well enough to avoid furniture, follow the flames that call to her. She's sure that's what the dim lighting is from, candles, flames that burn in a dance of fluttering movements. Maybe he's sick. A headache or something. Okay, now she's grasping at straws because honestly, the moment she entered the loft she was positive he wasn't even here but he wouldn't leave open flames glowing which means he's around somewhere.

"Castle?" It's a pointless inquiry because she can see him the moment she steps into his space. As soon as his name evacuates her mouth, she sees him sitting at his desk with his head in his hands. Eyes snapping up to meet hers. "Hey, you okay?"

"Fine."

"What's with the candles?" He tilts his head to the side, almost as if he's studying her and yeah, it worries her. He's sitting in the dark in his office, not answering any of her calls. That scares the shit out of her. "Where were you today? I called."

"I was busy." His tone is soft, not clipped, not angry in any way and everything about this is just weird. He's a strange man - she's seen that many times over the years and in the last one she's been up close and personal with just how deep his strangeness runs but this is pushing it.

"Oh..uh, well it's late and I just wanted to," She pauses, not entirely sure what she wants to say. This isn't working, he's still just sitting there staring at her. "make sure we're okay."

There's a flash of surprise in his blue eyes, making her bite her lip and sidle closer to him. She gives in to the urge to be near him, steps around the desk and doesn't stop moving until she's almost pressed against the arm of his chair. Gazes locked the whole time, she's trying to figure this out. Piece together the puzzle but instead of smooth edged pieces he's given her jagged ones. Ones that don't fit together.

"Silence doesn't suit you, Castle. I prefer it when you talk." A smile finally tugs his lips, his hand reaching out to wrap around the back of her thigh. Touch. Okay, she can handle touching. And the fact that he's turning into her, knees bumping with her own. It's soothing.

"I'll remember that."

"Seriously what's with the brooding in candle light and why didn't you answer my texts?"

"They're fresh linen scented." She's frowning when he uses both hands wrapping around her legs to pull her into his lap but she goes. The feel of his fingers on the insides of her thighs is more than enough to have her melting down into the chair, pinning him to it. "Your favorite."

"I noticed."

"And we're in my office." She settles into him, lets him draw her closer with a press of his palm on her back. Doesn't protest when his mouth ghosts over her cheek.

"I noticed that as well."

"Which is your favorite place to..." He lets the sentence dangle, pushes his hips up into hers and she gasps against his jaw.

"No it's not." It isn't. It might be in the top three though so she'll give him brownie points for knowing just how much she enjoys invading his space, claiming it as her own. As theirs. But she has no idea what he's playing at. "Wha -"

"And you're in here with me - your favorite person." There's the playful glint in his eyes she's been missing. The teasing tone she loves so much. She hums as response, steals a kiss from his parted lips. Things seem okay but she can feel his heart racing beneath her hand, can taste a hint of desperation on his tongue. He's avoiding her questions still, hasn't answered and that's what pulls her back, makes her abandon his mouth with a pop.

"Castle, what are we doing?"

"You were right when you said it was the wrong time." Her brow furrows, brain racing and no. No, no, no, no. She drops her eyes, shakes her head as he reaches in his pocket. He isn't doing this but he is and she knows before the ring is ever presented between them that he's really trying again. Her heart constricts, tightening her chest. She doesn't want to tell him no.

"Rick,"

"So I'm asking again, Katherine Houghton Beckett, will -" She breathes into him, whispers a harsh 'shut up' but he doesn't. "you -"

"No, Castle. Stop. Look, we talked and I thought we agreed that we're not at the right place for this. We're just getting back on our feet." He actually smiles, despite the fact that she's ripping apart on the inside. He's smiling, twisting the ring between his fingers, making her stare at it. It really is a gorgeous ring. Absolutely stunning and perfect. Exactly what she wants.

"Talking doesn't suit you, Kate. I prefer when you're quiet." It earns him a grin. Just a small one that barely stifles her chuckle. He's always been good at this. Taking something she's said, morphing it into something to toss back in her face. "Good. Now, as I was saying...will you marry me?"

"No." Soft and firm this time.

"Okay."

"That's it?"

"What else is there?"

"You did all of this, avoiding me all day, making me think there was something wrong, the candles, the ridiculous -" She huffs, lets her shoulders drop. She's not actually upset. It's kind of sweet. A little. "All just to ask me a question you already know the answer to? What if I'd just gone to my apartment tonight instead of coming here?"

"I'm proving a point and I was going to call you if you didn't show up by eleven."

"What's that?" She really should know better than to humor him but he just proposed...again. And even if he's playing it off as no big deal that she's said no - twice - she knows it bothers him. It bothers her and she's the one turning him down.

"I will ask you to marry me - I will remind you that this ring is yours until the day you're ready to say yes." Her heart stops, freezes in her chest as she looks him in the eye. He isn't goofing around. He's serious and she's terrified. He'll keep asking and honestly, it makes sense. It does because this is what he does to her. He pushes. He pokes. He scratches and claws and she _lets_ him. Because she wants him.

**a/n: This is going to be a series of proposals spread out through their relationship. If you're not a fan, feel free to walk away. Some will end up being cheesy, others will be sad, serious, funny, blah blah. Warning you now.  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Just borrowing. ;)  
**

**A/N: Basically...this story isn't what I think will happen in the show guys. I just liked the idea and ran with it. This one is a bit short - they'll all vary in length.  
**

_**Tell me, it's not over now,  
I can change your mind somehow,  
I, I give it all,  
I trip and fall,  
for you...**_

Her voice carries in here, echoing off the walls and she wonders if maybe she's being too loud but then she steps back into the spray of the shower, rinsing the soap from her hair and she doesn't even care. The lyrics flow from her lips, dripping like honey when she gets to the chorus as she scrubs her fingers through her soaked locks. The sound of the water pounding in her ears, makes it hard to hear anything other than her own muffled voice and that's exactly what she loves about Castle's shower.

It's high power, it's hot, it's spacious and it's absolutely perfect. It's her thinking place some nights - her '_I need to cool down_' place when she gets a little too worked up over a case or when she's been arguing with her boyfriend. Boyfriend. It doesn't seem right. The word doesn't fit for what they are. They're...so many things. Partners. Lovers. Friends.

She's in _his_ shower, singing show tunes and he's still dead to the world across the mattress. So many things about their relationship shouldn't work but it does somehow and she's pretty sure that makes them different. Makes them better than _just _boyfriend and girlfriend. Makes them more. He wants them to be more. She could have easily changed their label with just one word and she chose not to. So really, it's her fault that she's worrying herself to death beneath the hot spray of liquid.

She pushes her thoughts away. Not wanting to ruin the good mood she's been in since she woke up to him sharing her pillow, pressed as close to her as possible. He's always warm, a bit of a cuddler in the mornings and she usually doesn't mind much. Some mornings she stays in bed with him, letting him pull her closer or she scoots on her own. Those mornings can be some of the best.

She hears the click of the shower door. Knows she's suddenly not as alone as she thought. These mornings - spent in the shower - they can be some of the best too. She wants to open her eyes, see him but she also likes the anticipation, the mystery of him joining her silently like this. Not speaking. Just stepping in with her and sneaking up. He's terrible at sneaking.

He bumbles around too much, walks a bit too heavily and she knows he's only about a foot in front of her when she feels his fingers slide along her hip. His hand is almost cold compared to the heat of the water. His touch is different here, slick from the droplets raining down, a slide of wet pressure against her skin and it's only when he drags her closer - pulling her out from under the direct path of the shower head - that she opens her eyes.

Gives in to the need to see him, hair plastered to his skull, rivers of water cascading over his body. How she loves him like this. Sleepy eyes and lazy movements. The way he drags as if his limbs are too heavy and it's an effort to make them do anything - like the weight of his palms on her hips. It's as if it takes all his energy to hold them there and she lets hers slide down to join his.

A soft smile plays at her lips, no sound spilling from them now that he's arrived. He's the one who shuffles closer, presses his body into hers and pushes his mouth into her wet cheek.

"Good Morning." He breathes it into her skin, his tongue poking out for a brief taste before he presses a kiss against her.

"Morning."

"Heard you singing." She's not shy about it. Not really so it doesn't bother her that he woke up to her singing in his shower or that he took it as an invitation to join her.

In fact, she likes that he does this. That he doesn't pretend, that he tells her straight out that he's been listening to her belt out show tunes for at least five minutes. She knows him. Knows he didn't come in here immediately. He savors things. Enjoys. He probably had that little smirk on his face as he stood outside the door. The one that tilts a corner of his mouth up, raises an eyebrow in a rather sexy way.

"Did I wake you?" He shakes his head but she doesn't see it. She feels it, he's sliding his nose over her jaw, down her neck when she tilts her head to the side and something about doing this while naked and wet makes everything so much more intimate. She licks her lips, tasting the water and wanting to taste _him_ instead. "Castle,"

It's a sigh, barely his name but it gets his attention because he's tracing back up. She swallows, says nothing more as she feels the tip of his nose slip along as the water continues to pound down, coating them in a mist. The underside of her chin is where he stops, his mouth against her throat. And then he continues on, straight up, over her lips, to nudge with her own nose as his mouth opens against hers.

Her hands fly up to his hair, fingers tangling in the saturated locks. A wet heavy silk sliding through her hands as she lets him devastate her mouth, fight her for some sense of dominance. She won't give it. She isn't giving in.

Until he says the one thing - whispers it into her - that makes her falter. Makes it easy for him to slide his hand up her spine, slick with remnants of shampoo still slipping down, mixing with water and exiting through the drain.

"Marry me." It isn't a question but it's still a proposal in her eyes. It's implied and she wants to share her answer, let her breath mingle with his as she expels the word into the safety of his mouth. But it isn't a question. And he doesn't really want an answer. She can see it in his eyes when she opens hers in shock, meets his stormy blue gaze. Water droplets glued against his eyelashes, only serving to magnify the fact that he's okay with this.

That he isn't really expecting a reply at all. So she doesn't give one. Just leans into him, watches him until she meets his lips once more. For now, this is okay. This is them. Her singing in his shower, him joining. Their bodies ending up melted together by the steam and the heat of the water. It's a good morning.

It's been a month since he asked the _second_ time, made a point to prove that the ring is hers, that he won't let her forget about it. Honestly, she hasn't but she had forgotten about his promise. His pledge to do this. To not give up until she's saying yes. Her heart already is. Her mind too. It's just forcing the words out that's the hard part. She's not so good with words but she can try.

"I love you." And for now, it's enough.


End file.
